Alive
by firstdragonrider
Summary: Those terrified eyes that stared back at him intensified the pain and the anguish in every cut and break on his bruised body. They were begging him, pleading him, to understand. And he did. Sally/Aidan Angst


_Note: Once again I'm stuck not quite knowing how to describe their relationship. I think this is them realizing that there is no one else who understands. A lot of it is fear. I feel like they're not scared enough in the show. They're dying, that should be terrifying, especially since they've been running from death for such a long time. But I still stand firm in the fact that they're not "in love" like Nora and Josh. They're just confused supernatural beings. Poor babies. I love them so much... _

**Alive**

Her steps were supposed to take her to the kitchen. She had been fully intent on ripping open the refrigerator door and devouring everything she could get her hands on. So when her almost frantic footsteps promptly stopped beside the basement door, her feet paused for a split second before a hand was yanking on the doorknob and she was nearly tumbling down the stairway. She didn't even have the chance to register what had happened before she was slowing her pace as she approached Aidan's bed. She didn't stand by the bedside or wait for him to acknowledge her, but instead she nearly threw herself on top of him, startling him out of his not-so-much-slumber as she crushed her body against his. And in a split second she was pouring her heart out through her eyes, the tears welling up and spilling over to the point where she couldn't see clearly. She instead opted to shut them tight and press her forehead against his neck, curling around him and grasping his shirt into bunches as her entire body shook.

His brain also failed to register what was going on, but the moment he felt her sobs he had his arms wrapped around her, one hand freeing hers on his chest and entangling them together into a tight grasp. Even though every inch of his body hurt and even though his arm was pulsating where he knew the disease was spreading, he held on tighter and couldn't muster a single tear, no matter how hard he tried. Instead he held her close, letting her cry into his neck and whispering careful apologies and excuses and promises that he could never keep. He told her how it would be okay in the end and the words felt like poison on his lips but they had to be said. She had to be okay. She had to be.

Then she told him about Max, and about her hopes and dreams that never would come true. When he inquired why, she told him about her dying body. She jumbled up thoughts of fear and love and fright into a mixture that he nearly couldn't follow, but he let her talk. When she was done talking, there was only silence. They both needed the silence to let it all sink in. They were dying. And then he turned to look into her face and to stare into her eyes and to just _make sure _that she was here and that she was Sally. Those terrified eyes that stared back at him intensified the pain and the anguish in every cut and break on his bruised body. It was begging him, pleading him, to understand. And he did.

Within seconds, lips were crushed nearly as close together as their bodies. Her hands tangled in his hair and skittered gently across his chest and he hugged her to him as close as physically possible while they tried to forget everything for a moment in order to just _live. _There was no lust or affection or love, but a need to feel something that wasn't themselves. A need to know that they weren't alone and that warmth came from another body instead of their own. But when he grasped her face with his hands and broke the kiss with a desperate sigh, fresh tears welled out of her eyes.

"Sally," his voice cracked, his breath mingling with hers as she clutched onto him painfully. There was only fear in that voice. Fear of dying after having evaded it for so long. She pulled him back into a kiss, a gentler one filled with every ounce of despair and terror that they both contained. She let that kiss linger and he brushed his thumb across her cheek to make sure that she knew that he was here. He was here and so was she and in this moment that was the only thing they could ask for. There were no 'I love you' exchanged, there was no passionate spark between the two bodies pressed close. This was an attempt to be alive. She slid back down to his shoulder and her shaky breathes against his neck reminded him that she was still here and he was still here.

"Sally I'm scared," he then quietly admitted, and the realization was more of a trigger for his tears than it was a statement for her.

"We will figure it out," she sniffled, grabbing him around his waist and hugging him closer. And this time she didn't leave. She didn't silently slip out when the sun touched the sky. She didn't leave and pretend it had never happened. And not once did she loosen her grip on him. So as the night dragged on and their bodies decomposed in each other's arms, they stayed and they hoped. Sally hoped that he wouldn't be dead when the morning did come. Aidan hoped, he _prayed_, that she would figure it out in the end. Each passing minute brought on another bout of tears, or another fit of panic and shaking. Each minute dragged on into hours and hours dragged on into morning and not once did they allow their bodies to sleep.

And so when the sun did finally rise and thin streaks of light danced on the concrete floor, he told her that she could sleep, that they had made it through the night. With terrified sighs of relief they allowed themselves to rest.

They were alive. In this moment they were still living. And that was more than any of them could ask for.


End file.
